Roses for Abadeer
by Shiroiyuki3
Summary: Desperate to rid herself of the Ice King and find her Simon again, Marceline seeks a wish from the Time Keeper. But as everyone knows, his wishes are never what they appear. Can she save Simon without destroying herself? Marceline/Simon.
1. Memories and Other Things

_Disclaimer - Adventure Time and all characters belong to Pendleton Ward. I do not own any of them._

**Roses for Abadeer**

_Memories and Other Things_

With wondering eyes she searched the starry sky above, trying to trace something familiar out of night, long hair blowing gently about her in a careless fashion. It was a peaceful sort of exercise she had grown accustomed to over the long years, when living was far too painful a fate to endure alone. To her, the stars had been her one constant anchor in these ever-shifting tides.

Looking to the heavens it was easy to imagine something bigger than herself looking back. A reason and rhyme for life and the bunked up world she had grown up in. It was so simple to think everything was connected when faced with such endless beauty, that there was some grand plan in store for her.

Even after she had grown up and stopped expecting the answers to find her, even after she had settled down and found friends in this crazy world, she made it a mission to do this nightly, to keep up the charade. To try and forget the one regret she had through it all.

But no matter which shape she attempted her path would inevitably drift to the spikey planes of a crown.

No, she quickly looked down and closed her eyes, severing all contact with the universe. Don't torture yourself, she scolded.

The wind from the north seemed a lot cooler suddenly. With a frown the Vampire Queen rolled to a seated position on the tree-fort roof and scanned the area. In the pit of her undead heart she knew he'd be out there. Somewhere. Watching.

During the last few hundred years it had become almost involuntary for him, stalking her like this. As if she were the last link he had to his sanity. So exhausting! No matter where she went he'd find her. As if losing her from his sight would somehow implode the world he had built up around the lie.

Ice King, that pitiful old fool. The very idea tormented her.

With an irritable huff she lifted off the rooftop and threw her hands onto her hips.

"Ice King! I know you're out there!" She shouted, much to the chagrin of the sleeping Finn and Jake who woke in an instant without knowing why.

"Dude..?" Jake's sleepy whine could be heard below, "What's going on?"

"I don't know, bro, but it sounds like it came from outside!"

No other words seemed right in this heated moment, and blushing furiously at her mistake, Marceline took off angrily toward her private abode. She could faintly hear the two adventurers clamber out of their beds and to the window. She could feel their eyes on her fleeting form.

"Glob! That frozen butt!" Marceline exclaimed into the night after flying for a while. "Why won't he just leave me alone already?"

Under her breath she lamented, "It's not like he even really remembers anymore. Is this just a game to him?"

Everywhere she went he eventually found her, just as a song she had sung years ago poignantly described. That old coot was totally fluffing nuts.

Back in the day, when Simon had first started drifting into madness, the way he'd find her was almost…sweet. He'd turn up in such unexpected places after she'd leave.

He'd find her as if they were truly connected to one another, two soul mates destined to be entwined for life. It was so easy to believe that she could somehow be his rock this way, that if he found her enough one day he might even find himself again.

But the endearment had definitely become an unhealthy obsession, and Simon never did get better.

Oh Glob, did she try though. It had been ten years to the day in fact that Marceline had entrusted her heart to this task. Opened up to the childish possibility of his getting better.

With a twisted sense of righteousness the woman had allowed him to enter her life again. Playing music, shooting some hoops, you know, just chillin'... All the while searching into those vapid white eyes for a hint of her old Simon. Anything. She would have settled for anything.

Speaking to him as she had once done. Showing him pictures and objects of his past to spark memory. Calling him by his true name.

All in vain.

She landed at her pad and slammed the door almost off its hinges. Why in Glob's name did he have to wear that fizzing crown all the time? Why? Why couldn't he give it up?

_For me_, was the unspoken wish harbored deep within her. Tears welled at the admission. A bitter resentment rose up like bile in Marceline's throat.

"Just go away, you old DORK!" She screamed to no one, kicking over a chair.

An unsuspecting nightstand bought it during her tirade through the house, wood splintering across the floor in a shower of rage. She mindlessly plucked a large sliver from her arm and tossed it aside. In the height of her emotion a soft crunch of glass underfoot caught her off guard.

An old black and white photograph, salvaged from the Ice King's palace some years ago, brought her back down to reality.

A young Simon smiled proudly up into the camera, happily indulging in a cup of cocoa, newspaper propped open to reveal an image of him with the Enchiridion. He held the hand of a woman off camera, Betty most likely, his finger rubbing her engagement ring fondly. His hair was so much shorter then, darker. Not white. His face was so much younger. His nose short on his round, youthful face.

And he still wore his glasses then. Marceline traced their shape with her finger.

On the table in the photo was a bunch of roses, wrapped in the sort of style one gives to someone on special occasion. Although their color was in shades of grey, Marceline had imagined them to be red. The idea intrigued her.

What had they been for? Were they in celebration of getting his picture in the paper?

She had asked him once, she remembered. Back in the rubble of war. The Simon of her youth, already white-haired and bearded and slightly mad, had shrugged her questions off in his silly manner, never taking the world seriously for even a second. Hadn't remembered taking the photo, he said. Wasn't sure if that was even him.

Ashamed of herself, Marceline flicked off the broken glass and cradled the frame to her, tears falling freely.

It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment he had truly succumbed to its evils, the deterioration of his mind spread out so much over these long years that she hardly remembered anymore, but that crown…its power over Simon was infuriating. It was all because of that crown. His early days of dementia were such a blur to her now. If only she could remember a time when he wasn't so dependent on it.

So many fights over that crown, too many to distinguish from one another. Words of cruelty she never meant settling in the cracks. She had been harsh to him, to her dear Simon. Pushed him away when he was already slipping.

Marceline had been young and childish then. She had begged him to not wear it, to toss it away. But he just couldn't. And when he chose that crown over her, she turned her anger on him.

What she would give to do it all again, to go back as she was now, with the insight and maturity she had grown into over the years. Maybe she could save Simon from himself.

"But that's impossible," Marceline sighed and put the frame down onto another table nearby, picture first to hide her failure. The past was as dead as she was. The Simon she had known and lost, the Simon she had only dreamed of…the Simon in that photo…she would never be with him.

Then a thought struck her.

There was a bag she kept in a dark corner of her closet, the contents of which filled her with equal parts excitement and dread. Some nights the thought of Simon kept her awake and she itched for this bag and what was inside. Intoxicating ideas flowed through her.

She found herself at the door, pressing her head to the cool wood while her brain screamed that to use this would be her downfall, and her heart countered that to not would be her end.

At the time of its creation, she had vowed never to use it. It was a silly vow. Ten years she had resisted. But now…

With all the rationality one thousand and twenty years had afforded her, the vampire queen still could not extinguish the small ray of hope that radiated from that bag. She opened her closet door.

A space that she knew by heart suddenly seemed foreign. Shadows stretched into gaping mouths, clothing became beasts she only knew in nightmare. She reached for the bag over what seemed a mile of hellfire until her fingers finally made purchase.

The remains of Ash's memory dust, which she had furtively swept into a pile and gathered into this bag, appeared to be drawing her near. Shining and terrible, with bits of dirt mixed in from her neglected floor, it was all too tempting. Probably not enough to do much with, she stalled, secretly hoping for the opposite. Take her back to this morning and nothing more.

Her heart, had it still been capable of beating, would have done so uncomfortably fast at the yearning in her soul.

Suppose it was enough, she licked her lips as the haunting glow of dust lured her closer to its twinkling depths. Suppose she could spend a few more hours with Simon, the Simon she loved. How wicked was the thought.

So appropriate it was to have the stars as her witness, that she was inspired to leave her house completely. They alone had been her friend through her years of suffering at the loss of Simon, and they alone would see her through this until the end.

Affixing herself to the railing of the ancient bridge on her home's cavern mouth, she felt the wind suddenly die away. The world was silent for her as she searched the Heaven's once more, feeling Fate guiding her to this moment.

"Simon," his name a reverent whisper, "I know this won't save you. I doubt I'll ever save you. I know it is selfish but…I have to see you again. If only for a little while. If only to have a memory of a memory to cherish in my heart."

She opened the bag fully and emptied its contents into the palm of her hand. Eyes fluttered closed. Hope swelled. Her hand clutched upon the silvery dust, ready to throw it at herself, and –

"Marceline!" A man's voice caused her to panic, and with slow seizing horror she watched her specks of hope disappear into the night forever. "What's going on? Why were you at our house?!

"You started shouting all loud like and then just…left! Totally jacked up our dreams, bro!"

"Yeah," Jake joined in, stretching himself and his pal up to her frozen form and depositing the two of them onto the decrepit old bridge. "And I was having a totally bazonkin' dream, too. Lady and I were at this picnic and she reaches over and starts fe –"

"What? Ew, Jake! Just stop, man."

"Hmph, nothing wrong with feeding a dog chocolate, bro. You need a lady, man."

The two of them went on for a while like this back and forth, age having no effect on their childish ways, until Finn noticed Marceline's face. Her wide eyes described a shock which hadn't been seen before on her. He slapped Jake's stretchy arm away from picking his nose and faltered.

"_Flaps_…you okay, man? You look like someone just flipped your zip, yo."

"That…" Marceline's voice was hollow and distant, "That was…"

"Hey man; Finn, I think I'm gonna head back. I mean, it was cool at first, running after you guys and all, but I'm feeling way tired. Not as young as I once was it seems. Kids, man. Drains a bro, ya know?"

Finn shook his head, instantly distracted from the topic at hand, "Weak, man."

"What?" Jake innocently shrugged. "I'm a dog past his prime. Look at how I've let myself go."

He stretched out his stomach into a puddle of lazy yellow and laughed when Finn tried to do the same, squeezing his little human handles, pinching flesh.

"_Love me_," Finn taunted in jest. "_Love these handles….look at them. Chubby, chubby…_Wow, I really need to cut down on the snacks."

"You can't tell under your shirt, man. No worries."

Something in Marceline snapped. She suddenly was painfully aware of the two by her side and the chill of night etching up her back. The wind, as if to mock her, had begun to wail and the clouds above blocked most of her stars. It was over, all of it. Simon was truly lost to her. When she had the bag in her possession it was easy to allow that glimmer of hope, that chance of…

She smelled the Ice King on the breeze and her thoughts went red.

"No…" She began, drowned out by the rekindled banter of the two best friends nearby.

With remarkable delirium, her eyes narrowed on Finn as he tackled Jake playfully, and then shifted with knifelike menace towards the dog as he stretched into a giant butt. She cocked her head predatorily as one large cheek smacked down to hold the human in place while he laughed.

"Sick! Get the plop off me, dude, before I dingle your bones!"

"What," the vampire queen started, shaking. Her form flickered as it threatened to transform, "the MATH do you think you are DOING?!"

In an explosion of rage she was suddenly all tentacles and teeth, a black beast which stole the two fools from where they had been standing, gripping them in her claws. The ancient bridge creaked madly beneath her added weight. Her scream shook birds from their nests in nearby trees.

Finn seemed to pick up that something was wrong.

"Yo man, wanna talk about it?"

The beast formally known as Marceline shrieked into the night and slammed the two idiots into one another viciously. Finn, with his one good eye, stared up at her and made a face. He struggled in vain for a moment. His sword was out of reach.

"MARCELINE! What the fluff, bro!?"

"She's off her nut, Finn."

"You little DORKING PLEEBS have messed with me for the LAST TIME!"

The sound was more a roar than a voice, something dwelling until now in the shadows of the Nightosphere. Jake felt the reverbs even as he shrank down through her massive talons and dropped to the bridge below. The mini-dog pointed an accusatory finger at the mad beast as he hopped to a more stable board. Something went snap nearby and the bridge shook slightly underfoot.

"Hey man, you woke us up, first."

"Yeah, I mean, you totally went benay-nay and then flew away, Marce. What did you expect? We had to follow you. Bros for life, right?"

The beast's red eyes shifted to the human in its claw with a cold look of incomprehension. Seething, it squeezed tighter and brought its leg down upon the dog, who was too quick in his small size to be stomped. In a flash, Jake stretched out his limps and wrapped around the beast's legs, tightening them together despite the screams of protest.

The bridge sounded a warning crack that the three figures didn't heed.

"Alright now!" The dog drifted up in one long curve from the beast's legs to sit level with his friend, whom attempted to bro five him but shrugged when he couldn't free his arms. "It's cool, I'll get you later."

"Marceline," Finn shouted, a hero's heart fueling his words. "What's the damage?! The Glob is going on with you?"

Marceline, immobilized, roared one final time until her screams were curiously drowned out by a terrible organic sound. The old bridge splintered, fractured wood and rebar giving out. The three began plummeting to the rocky crevice below. In surprise, the claw holding Finn opened enough for him to pry himself free…to fall unhindered.

"OH…_MATH!_"

"Hold on, buddy!"

Jake became a kite and encircled the man, spreading himself out and winging them to safety.

In her blind rage, the beast could not stop herself from falling, a cry of horror escaping as she fell. The two men stood and watched in slow motion as their friend dropped to certain death.

Jake jumped from his perch on the rock face, navigating the splintered boards as he dived into the night. He couldn't reach her.

"No!"

Making a hasty decision when faced with this failure, he stretched out an arm and stopped his pursuit midair.

"_Marceline!_"

An enormous channel of ice formed itself above the jagged sea of rock, cushioning her fall and guiding her to the valley floor. She slid to safety in this way, the coolness bringing her hot head back down to size. By the time she reached the end of her slide, Marceline in her correct form was fully aware of who had saved her. It was a bittersweet end of a terrible night and she just wanted to go home.

Finn and Jake, careening themselves from cliff to cliff until finally reaching the crevasse's bottom, screamed her name until she sat up and rubbed her sore skin.

"Holy fractions, Marceline! We thought you were done for!"

The woman sighed and stood up, fixing her skirt. Without much conviction she stated, "I'm a thousand years old, Finn. It takes a lot more than that to kill me."

"Hey, did the Ice King make this?" Was Jake's question, sliding his paw over the gleaming surface of ice. "I didn't even see him around. That's so weird."

"Yeah man, that _is_ weird. Why would he be all the way out here?"

Finn looked to the mouth of the gorge and shouted.

"ICE KING, show yourself!"

"Finn," Marceline said sourly, "just stop. It's okay. There's no point. He probably doesn't even know why he saved me."

The human watched helplessly as she brushed herself off and fixed her bangs, slipping further into depression. Misery was written plainly on her face. In response he toned down his hero-slang and tried to take her hand.

"Marce…what's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's nothing. Whatever…I'm going home."

Jake said nothing. He had a feeling he knew what was chewing her. The two men stood there while she floated away into her cave and exchanged a look with one another after she had gone.

"Hey Finn, why don't you head back? I have to…uh…do something."

Finn cocked a brow. "Heck no, brother. Something's wrong with Marceline. We should go talk to her."

"No," the dog hastily dodged. He could see the familiar determination on his friend's face, such stubborn thick heroism. He quickly formulated a plan.

"We should…split up. Yeah. _Yeah_…Split up and go find Ice King. He's gotta be around here somewhere. I bet if we find him we'll find out why Marceline was so mad."

"You think?"

"Totally."

Finn examined his friend closely but was none the wiser. "Okay."

Jake lifted Finn up to the gorge's summit and watched him leave. Then he turned his attention back toward Marceline's cave.

The vampire queen lay curled in a ball, floating a few inches from her floor. Tears had long since stopped but the trembling of a broken heart shook her as she sniffled into her knees. It was her fault for hoping.

Somehow even at the height of her anticipation, when the world had finally made sense and her path had become clear, she knew something would go wrong. It was a small treacherous voice in the back of her mind which told her so. She should have listened.

"Why? Why do I keep setting myself up like this?"

"Marceline!" A voice outside full of concern made her grip her knees protectively, hissing at the intrusion. "Marceline, I know you're in there. Open the door."

"Go away!"

"Marceline," Jake reasoned. "Come on, please open the door."

"No, you've done enough!"

With a whoosh he shortened himself and slid through the doggie flap in her door.

"I said go away," the woman roared half-heartedly, making a brief show of her rage that was more sad than anything.

"Listen…I…think I know why you're upset. Or at least, part of it."

Marceline tucked her head under her arm in defeat. "You don't know anything."

"_Yes I do_. It has to do with the Ice King, I know that much. Don't think I didn't hear you back at the tree fort.

"Then again, just now, when Finn and I mentioned his name... You totally clammed up and pushed us away. Come on," The dog sat down and laid his head against her leg in comfort. "I know you two have a history together…so, don't act as if you're all alone in this. I'm your friend and I care about you. Maybe I can help."

The woman sat up but didn't meet his eyes. "No, Jake. No one can help. I couldn't even help. I just have to accept that Simon is gone."

She suddenly looked shamefaced. She'd said too much.

"So that's what this is all about. Girl, you shouldn't feel guilty over something that isn't your fault."

"I just wish that I could go back and fix things before they spiraled so far out of control."

Despite himself, at the word "wish", the dog had an idea that shown visibly on his face for a quick moment. Marceline noticed, even after he pretended nothing was up.

"What was that?" She said, searching his face.

"What?"

"That look. You _know_ something, don't you? Spill it."

"Nothing, it's nothing._ Seriously_, it's stupid anyway." Jake looked away with guilt, rubbing the back of his head. "I mean, even if it was possible…which it's not…there'd be no way to get there. Just forget it."

"Jake!"

"Alright, alright, _geez_. It was just something you said, is all. Got me thinking."

Marceline, never one to be patient when her heart's happiness was at stake, stared menacingly at him until he revealed everything. Her eyes never left him. Never blinked actually. He'd never been so uncomfortable in his life.

So, this was his story.

"There is a room of time, hidden in some other dimension, that has a dude…probably the creator of time itself, but really – who can tell, right? I mean, suppose he _did_ create time. No one would be around to prove it. It would basically be just him going around claiming to have done so. But then, who created _him?_ So many questions…

"But that's off-topic, haha..._please don't eat me!_

"_Sheesh! _Anyway, his name is Prismo and he grants wishes. One wish, actually. It's sort of complicated…And it is a _really bad idea because he usually mucks them up and twists them to be evil and bad things just…happen_. Like this one time Finn had wished for the Lich never to have been born and then we were transported to this other world and –

"Okay, _okay!_ Stop pinching me! Dude, not cool!

"Anyway, like I said it was a stupid idea and wouldn't work anyway…because the Enchiridion is gone. Ploof! Kabloowy! Badoinkled! Destroyed."

"What's so important about the Enchiridion," Marceline said, fascinated. Her rapt attention rested solely on Jake. He began to sweat.

"Well, that was the doorway. You had to like, steal jewels and stuff from princesses and put them in the book. Then these other dimensions flew out of it and floated in the air. All these shapes and stuff." Imitating them he splayed his arms wide and circled around then snorted, forgetting himself. "Wow you know, when you really get down to it, that whole thing just seems silly."

He looked at the woman and suddenly things weren't quite so silly anymore.

A heated moment passed while she stared at him. Just when he thought for sure she'd gobble him up, a smile popped onto her face and she smacked a fist into the palm of her other hand.

"Well, why didn't you just say that! It's so simple! Man, Jake, you really know how to make a situation dramatic."

"What?"

She stood up and looked triumphant. "It's easy. I'll just go to the Nightosphere and have my dad open up the portal. I mean, he is the Lord of Darkness. He's probably got a ton of portals down there. Maybe one leads to this Prismo guy."

"No, dude…I just told you; his wishes are bad news. Look, say I wanted two thousand bucks. He'd probably kill Jake Jr. and have me collect from the insurance! Your wish will just be tainted and messed up. Don't do it, Marceline!"

Marceline was already opening the portal to the Nightosphere. "Relax. It'll be fine. Don't be so dramatic."

"Nnn…I think we should get Finn."

The soul-sucking portal opened in her wall and she turned just long enough to regard him. With a smile she said, "Don't worry so much."

With a faint _plop_ she was gone.

"Oh…Glob."


	2. Of Frozen Time and Peppermints

**Roses for Abadeer**

Of Frozen Time and Peppermints

Withered souls screamed in a sea of despair, thousands of ghoulish forms pushing and pulling along a never-ending road into hell. There were demons here, some flying, others crawling around on their many legs. Most of the land was of this strange sort of chaos, all primitive and exotic buildings alit with flame. The ripe smell of blood and entrails was heavy in the air and bile spurted up from funneling volcanoes all around her.

A great green cloud shot death mist from its core, exploding creatures below into a find dust of brimstone upon contact. It flew around unbiased and cruel, crossing overhead as the woman floated closer to her destination.

Panic was a song sung by everyone as the land's inhabitants scurried from their terrible deaths.

She took a deep breath and shrugged.

"Daddy, I'm home."

No one was in the kitchen when she checked for her father, opening the door of the fridge briefly to snag a red-colored plate stacked with leftover sandwich. It looked incredibly delicious and she realized how hungry she actually was. She tossed the food aside and drained the dish, sated.

"Hello? Dad? You here?"

A crash of pottery followed closely behind. She didn't need a white plate after all.

"Baby!" Came a man's voice from the doorway. His accent was soft with happiness. "Marceline, you're actually here to see me? How wonderful. And I didn't even have to kill one of your friends!"

"Oh, _daddy_." She blushed and pushed playfully out of the hug he gave her. Fixing her bangs, she stood there shaking her head. One thousand and twenty years old and you'd think she was only four hundred with the way he still treated her.

"So, Marcy, what's up, baby? Is this your way of saying you've come to take over the family business?"

The woman hovered up and onto the kitchen counter unaffected. "No dad. I actually came to talk to you about something."

"Oh?"

Shrugging and not taking seriously the situation, Marceline explained what Jake had said about the Keeper of Time, all the while rolling her eyes and pretending not to be desperate. She left out everything having to do with Simon. He'd been a touchy subject with her father for _ages_.

"…and I thought if anyone, you'd know how to get in touch with this Prismo guy. Being so cool and all."

Hunson looked grave as she finished her story. So serious, in fact, that his daughter was shocked silent.

"Marceline," the demon lord began grimly, "do you even know what you are asking?"

"Oh, come on dad. It can't be all that bad."

He closed his eyes solemnly, unable to meet hers until he checked his emotions. Prismo, the name a curse on his tongue. For a Demon King ruling over pure chaos, nothing in history had challenged his patience so much as that damn Prismo. How in Glob's name did she…_no._ Play it cool, Abadeer.

He chuckled a little more forcefully than he needed to. "Well, honey, if _wishes_ were what you were after, I have this amulet you might like –"

"We did that, remember? About ten years ago? Tricked me into wearing your amulet and I rampaged through the city? Come on, dad."

Her father looked crestfallen. "Oh, yeah, heheh. Forgot."

He pouted slightly, looking around for something else. "Well, what about…this…fork! The Fork of Damnation! Heeyaa hee yaaaa…_pbbfftt_…"

He swooped it in the air like a plane and blew odd noises for sound effect.

"Dad," she rolled her eyes, stopping his display abruptly, "it's just a fork. Do you know how to contact Prismo or not?"

Deflated, the man threw the blasted thing through the open window and a sharp cry outside was heard.

"Marceline, baby, just tell daddy what you need and he'll make it happen. Don't worry about this Prismo nonsense."

"Ugh, I should have known you wouldn't help me."

"Marceline, it's not that…"

"I'll see you in a few hundred years, dad."

The woman pushed off the counter and floated outside through the cavern wall, ignoring the worried protests of her father and the sounds of pain coming from a passerby with a fork in his eye. It was suddenly way too stuffy down here in the pits of hell. She needed some fresh air to cool off.

If he wouldn't help her, well, she knew of only one other being in Ooo that was just evil enough to possibly be of assistance. Mortal and demon alike feared his awesome power. His dark trades were a thing of legend. His services would come at a price but Marceline would do anything to save Simon. She just hoped he would have the answer.

The vampire queen went through the portal to the mortal realm and headed for Candy Kingdom.

In a small cavern off the mountain a ways, overlooked by a gumball guardian, was a lair drenched in dark magic and unspeakable power. This was a place marked by the Globs as one never to govern, a blacked out stain on the celestial map which was allowed to fester and flourish as its sole proprietor thought necessary.

A laughing half-baked dessert pastry had been suspended by his small arms and legs over a glowing green fire. His dire predicament did nothing to his endless enjoyment. Cinnamon Bun swayed with unintelligible bliss, not knowing that his pitiful soul would soon be trade for horrifying demonic supremacy.

Down below a little striped fellow in the crisp dress of a serviceable man threw something ghastly into the flames, chanting in a dialect not heard in some thousand years.

"…_anima vestra mihi diabolo, et exivit ab inferis!_ Venite ... _venite_, et quæritis me propositum _tenebris!_"

"Hey Peppermint Butler," a woman's voice casually exclaimed from the cavern mouth.

The interruption threw the round candy man off kilter and he yelped with all the cute evil dwelling in his current form. The green flame, until now growing stronger with each demonic chant, died promptly away. Cinnamon Bun seemed almost disappointed.

With a hiss, Peppermint Butler began to curse the fool responsible.

"_Ego scindam cutem a carne tua et vestietur ea aaron sicut capa_…oh, it's just you, Marceline. To what do I owe the…pleasure? I trust it isn't because of your father."

His beady white eyes seemed to open into an empty cavernous void she wanted no part of, and feeling self-conscious, the woman dropped her gaze. He and her dad went way back. Marceline wasn't sure how _far_ back…but the two of them had an…understanding of sorts. As far as she was aware Hunson Abadeer owed him a life debt of some kind which kept her dad under his thumb. On the rare occasion Pep would drop by the Nightosphere, a game of golf and an afternoon's worth of embarrassing flattery was his to cherish.

"Well, actually, _sort of_," at the sudden flare of dark interest in the peppermint's eye, Marceline amended, "but he doesn't know I'm here or anything. I came to ask you for a favor."

A tense moment passed while the little candy stared into her soul.

"Ahh, very interesting."

The woman watched wearily as the small round man walked with pensive deliberation around the pit he had previously been using, now bare and fireless. Cinnamon Bun tried to wave at her but his arms were tied up. Peps reached the midway point of his procession and turned slightly, curiosity piqued.

"And pray tell, what is this favor you ask of me?"

"I was wondering if you…knew Prismo?"

"…The Time Keeper?"

"So, you do know him then?"

Marceline looked positively relieved.

"…_Perhaps._"

And then, just as equally terrified.

The Butler had his entire attention focused on her, watching her face intently. His frozen smile was a little too emotionless for comfort. She looked away, feigning indifference.

"So, do you know a way into his dimension? No big deal or anything." She carefully worded, sounding as aloof as she could as he dissected her innards with an unerring eye. Suddenly she wanted to go find her dad…

"That depends on _you_, my dear. There is something I require in return. A…_trade_ if you will."

She watched him circle back around the empty pit. Ominous energy swirled in the air and she could feel his mortal form flicker from the stress of binding it. Back and forth he paced, feet clicking pronouncedly on the cavern floor. _Click. Clack. Click. Clack._

When at last she couldn't stand it, the vampire queen asked in a meek voice, "what do you require?"

"Nothing much, really, just something you probably won't even miss."

".._Like?_"

The clicking stopped and a terrible soundless void filled its place. She couldn't bring herself to look up at him.

"Your immortality."

"What? No, I —"

"It's simple, you see; you will give to me claim over your immortal soul. Oh, you will still _be_ immortal. You _are_ half-demon regardless of our pact. Ageless, untouched by time, even deathless perhaps…but I and I alone will have rights to do as I please with your soul."

Marceline turned to leave. "I'd have to be a fool."

But the peppermint man only smiled sweetly.

"Then you may as well kiss Simon goodbye."

Frozen in panic, she looked back at him with stark surprise.

"How did you –?"

The laugh was dreadful. The stuff of nightmares. It echoed in the chamber and with each pass grew more terrible than the last.

"Oh, I know everything, my dear. _Everything._"

And suddenly he was upon her, mere inches from her unsuspecting form. White dead eyes stared up at Marceline and his fangs had grown to match that of his true form. The chorus of demonic voices emanating from this mint was no longer the cheerful light timbre of his Butler persona, but one so evil and wretched that for all she knew it may have been speaking directly through her mind.

"**So the choice is yours, **_**Marcy**_**. Give me your immortality and save Simon, or spend eternity in loss of him**."

"I…"

"**Come now, child of Abadeer. Can you truly go on existing without him?**"

Marceline knew in her heart he was right. Although all signs pointed to this being a very bad idea indeed, love once again clouded her judgment, and his offer suddenly seemed rather intoxicating.

It was true what he said. She barely _had_ made it through these last thousand years without Simon. The hope of one day having him return had kept her going, but as the years progressed and his condition only worsened, even that reason was slowly being drained. At this rate she'd lose him to the Ice King completely.

For a split second it all seemed to make so much sense. She never used her soul anyway. She wasn't even sure a vampire could _have_ a soul, let alone give it away. For all she knew she could be signing away something even _she_ wasn't entitled to and this would be a win-win on her part. She'd still be immortal, and above all else, she'd have Simon back.

The demon, formally known as Peppermint Butler, sensed her twisting to his will. With a wave of a careless hand, a contract on the skinned flesh of a demon presented itself midair. A skeletal quill with ink the color and thickness of blood popped into existence next to it. Pep smiled a toothy grin.

"_**So..?**_" He prompted encouragingly, floating the quill to her nervous hand. "**What shall it be?**"

"What will you _do_ with my soul?"

"**Oh, nothing for you to concern yourself about.**"

Another deep sonorous laugh, like the shutting of tombs beneath miles of rubble, echoed off the cavern walls around her.

In her mind's eye she saw that old photograph, a young careless Simon looking so happy in shades of grey and flannel. What she would give to be there with him…to hear him speak without dementia. See him smile for _her_, knowing it wasn't under the influence of a silly brain on crown. See those flowers in person and know what color they were, finally. For him, she'd even pretend to like cocoa. Just to see him happy and himself again.

_Simon_, she vowed no matter what the outcome. _Simon, I will save you from yourself. I promise.  
_

Closing her eyes and taking a breath, she signed her name in blood.


	3. Candy for Two

**Roses for Abadeer**

Candy for Two

The two men lay in a pile on the floor, recuperating from their recent battle.

On the wall behind them a badly drawn happy face had been sketched onto the paint. A carton's worth of buttermilk was still dripping from where it had been splashed unceremoniously onto the design, smearing its ink mouth into a grimace. They had gone to the Nightosphere through the portal which had been fabricated here on Marceline's wall. For over an hour the two heroes had worked, triumphing over demons, summoning the guardian of hell, and appealing to Hunson Abadeer directly.

A lot of good it had done, though. Emptied handed and no better off than before, through the portal they had returned.

"Where in Glob's name would she go…" Jake panted and wheezed, "…if her own father couldn't help? I told her…_oh my elbow_...I told her going to the Time Room was impossible. So why is she still trying?"

"_Maybe_," Finn's voice sounded muffled, face down under the butt of his friend, "_she did give up. She might have already come home._"

There was a moment of silence as both friends slowly realized their relative positions to one another.

"…_Hey, bro, do you think you could get off me now? I have carpet like, seriously in my mouth, dude…and it doesn't seem like Marceline vacuums. Ever._"

"Oh, sorry."

The dog heaved himself up and rubbed a stiff shoulder. He wasn't kidding about feeling his age. Lately adventuring would leave him miserable, no amount of stretching able to help. His muscles just wouldn't obey anymore.

Sometimes the cramps he'd suffer in his joints would leave him in agony for days.

Lady Rainicorn had been hinting not so subtly that he should settle down with her. Leave the hero business to younger dogs. She was always worrying like that, bless her.

Truthfully, a devious part of his mind secretly did want to give it up. Have another litter with Lady and grow old and fat by her side. But how could he give up something he'd spent his whole life working towards? Adventuring was everything he knew. What would Finn do without him?

Dogs had it so hard sometimes.

But regardless, Jake knew he couldn't give up adventuring until he at least straightened up this mess with the vampire queen.

Still feeling guilty over his earlier transgression, in his heart he felt personally responsible for rescuing Marceline from the worst mistake of her life. His big mouth had first planted the idea of Prismo, and now the girl was probably in serious trouble. Memories of Farm-World Finn and Jake flashed into his mind for an awful moment. Avoiding another disaster like that would make all the aching muscles in the world worth the effort.

That Prismo was a cool guy and all but his wishes were _bad news_.

Jake gave his back an audible crack and rubbed at his shoulder again. Addressing the house as a whole, he shouted, "Marceline? You home?! Hellooo?"

Finn rolled to his back, sighing. The ceiling was suddenly way too interesting for a man who'd been uncomfortably close to the carpet a few moments ago. Without moving his head, he shifted his gaze to their maximum limit in order to eyeball Jake.

"Guess not, bro."

"Fizzlesticks. For a second I almost believed it possible."

"Don't worry, Jake. We'll find her. She has to be around here somewhere. It's not like she could just up and disappear completely."

The dog looked grim. "Mnnn…that's what I'm afraid of."

Finn had found the floor a surprisingly decent spot to relax, once he was on the right side of its carpet. Propping his head up with his arms, he leisurely relaxed into its plush embrace, taking in the scene. He hadn't realized how many odd patterns could be traced in the abstract texture above. Were all ceilings like this? So captivated was he, that Jake found himself self-consciously peering up to see what had arrested his interest.

"_Whoa…_"

"Dude, focus!"

"_Sorry…dude_," Finn intoned, entranced and sounding miles away. The Cosmic Owl stared back at him for an instant. The universe opened and spiraled to somewhere exotic. He barely felt the slap on his leg. Or the punch to his ribs. He _did_ feel the bite on his arm, however.

"Ouch, man! Weak!"

"I said focus!"

"Hey, yo, don't come down on me because the ceilings here are epic."

Jake frowned and crossed his arms. Something just didn't seem right about their encounter with the Lord of Evil. The sensation had begun as an itch deep beneath his skin, growing stronger until he just couldn't breathe without finally asking, "Did you think Marceline's dad was acting a bit…strange?"

"Hmm? How do you mean?"

"I dunno. Just seemed like anytime we mentioned Prismo he would go all rage demon on us. He didn't take notice when we talked about Marceline, or the danger she'd be in…or any of that. Just the mention of the Time Keeper's name sent him over the edge.

"Do you think they have some sort of history?"

"Nah man, I think he is just generally cranky."

"Hmm."

Finn sat up and gingerly rubbed his arm. "Your bites suck _math_, bro."

"Sorry."

With an impish grin, Jake rubbed the back of his head and laughed. It was a moment of silly, followed closely by a relapse of serious. The dog's brow furrowed.

"I do agree with you about Hunson…that dude has issues…but I think there's definitely more to it than that." Jake kept picturing the demon's eyes burning with rage. "You'd think he'd be more concerned."

Finn shrugged and stood.

"So where do we look next? Ice King's?"

"What?" Jake said, distracted. Something was just off. "Uh, oh…no, she probably wouldn't go there. Let's ask PB if she's seen her."

"Cool. Let's go, diddy yo."

"…yeah. Okay."

Deep in her lab, Bubblegum Princess methodically mixed colorful liquids together into a conical flask, heating the concoction slowly over an open flame. At each pass she carefully documented the changes to color, texture, and consistency.

The contents suddenly burned electric blue, bubbling madly. The woman's tired eyes widened despite how taxed they'd been.

"Interesting reaction. But, what…what could it mean?"

She was so close to the answer. Seven days she had spent hunched over this experiment, seven days of science punctuated by stress. Only seldom had she ventured out into the world. And only then just to get food.

She carefully poured some of the substance into a beaker for later deviation to her results and labeled it "Variable 704". On her shelf it was placed, next to the other seven hundred and three variables. Exhausted, Bubblegum smiled faintly.

She could feel close to the end.

"PB! PB!" two voices exclaimed in rotating chorus outside her laboratory doors. She could hear a scuffle of sorts and the high pitched, worried voice of Peppermint Butler as he shooed her intruders away.

"Come now, the princess cannot be disturbed."

"Peebs, let us in! Jake and I need to speak with you about something important."

Sighing, the woman knew those two would never give up. Why on earth they were up at this hour, she didn't know. But the reason piqued her interest.

"Pep," She called and sighed once more, taking off her thick goggles and pinching the bridge of her nose. "Let them in. It's alright."

With a weary look, Bubblegum scanned her workroom and winced at all the scientific advancements and research opportunities she had wasted over the years, running around with those two boys. Not getting any younger, such experimental freedoms could not continue to be taken for granted. Soon so many life changes would have to take place.

She was a princess losing a battle with time.

Finn entered first, holding onto the straps of his bag where it clung to his shoulders. Although far older than when they had met years ago, he was still very much a boy in her eyes. Sometimes when Princess Bubblegum really considered things, she hoped he'd always be young at heart like this. No worries. No cares.

She would try to live vicariously through him and his fun adventures.

Jake wandered in close behind his friend, looking somber in contrast. Bubblegum had begun to see the tell-tale signs a few years prior in him, in stark contrast to his boyish heart. Despite all the protest the dog still attempted, the bursts of immaturity, he was growing up.

Apologetic for his loss, she frowned.

"Keep it short, fellas. The Princess needs to concentrate on her work."

"So what is it you've come to ask me?"

"Have you seen Marceline at all? She disappeared earlier!"

Finn waved his arms emphatically. Jake looked away, embarrassed.

"Oh no, that sounds terrible! I'm afraid I have not seen her, Finn…Where else have you checked?" Princess Bubblegum's face sank in sadness upon hearing her old friend had gone missing. Knowing Marceline it was quite possible this was some sort of game. But, in her heart there was still a twinge of fear.

"Well, she wasn't at her house, or in the Nightosphere. We checked the forest on the way, too."

"Have you checked with the Ice King?" PB asked knowingly, convinced she'd go there.

The dog looked guiltily away. "She kind of left…because of him. And me. Me mostly."

"What do you mean?"

"She woke us up, all shouting crazy. Yelling at the Ice King or something. We followed her back to her place and she just exploded in fury. Started hitting us," Jake said, sourly. "But that's not the worse part of it. I may have mentioned…something. Something bad."

"What was it?"

Pained, the dog couldn't meet her eye. "…"

"Yes?" Bubblegum encouraged helpfully. Her little tired eyes blinked a few times, kindly.

"I…I _told her about Prismo_, okay? I couldn't help it! She can just stare into my _brain_ or something! Then she got all excited about saving the Ice King. Didn't even listen to me when I warned her he was _bad news_."

Jake looked away awaiting the smack he deserved. When nothing of the sort struck him, he cautiously moved his gaze back up to the pink woman. She only smiled.

Princess Bubblegum sat down at her desk and invited her guests to join her, graciously extending a hand. Jake plopped down quite relieved to take the stress off his knees and heart. Finn, too pumped to sit, stood and jogged in place for a few seconds instead.

"Nah – I'm good, bro."

"If that was all that happened, then you shouldn't worry, boys. With the Enchiridion's destruction, all portals to Prismo were sealed forever. I'm sure Marceline will return soon, disappointed, but otherwise absolutely fine. Why, she is probably just invisible and sulking somewhere as we speak."

Her soft laugh instantly put the other two at ease.

"Oh, man, I'm glad we cleared that up."

"Yeah, good thing Prismo is unreachable. Bet Marceline feels silly."

A round little fellow that never quite left the room, but had gone unnoticed until now, cleared his throat.

In a light, amicable voice he said, "That is not…necessarily true, Your Majesty. Not _all_ portals were closed."

"Peppermint Butler?" Princess Bubblegum asked, unsure.

"I may have opened one for her."


	4. In Just a Few Notes

**Roses for Abadeer**

In Just a Few Notes

In a square yellow and pink room with no windows she found herself, unsure of what to do next. Ten seconds ago she had been signing away her soul to a demon dressed in red and white stripes and a cute bowtie. The next, she was just…alone. Filling the void in a blank Technicolor existence. What was this place? Was this really the Time Room?

With a growl, she realized Peppermint Butler had tricked her. _Gah_, she balled her fist. That walking toothache would pay.

Disappointed and feeling stupid, she floated up to one of the two only outlets the room seemed to have and glanced inside. Stars leading to uncharted territories gave an ominous impression. They could literally go anywhere. If this truly was the Time Room as that little candy con-artist had claimed…

"Hey," A voice nonchalantly scared the ever-living crap out of her.

Spinning around midair, it was then Marceline noticed the pink stripe she thought was bad décor had been a man's silhouette on the wall all along. She cautiously half-turned, keeping one eye on the shadow in case it moved. No one was behind her.

"What?"

"So, uh, are you Marceline then?"

The voice came from the silhouette. Or…She eyed the pink shape in front of her with doubt. No way could a shadow could be talking. Suddenly its blue eye blinked and focused down on her. The woman tried not to look worried.

"So like, how's it going?"

"Um..." Embarrassed without knowing why, she looked down awkwardly. Talking to this guy made her uncomfortable. "I'm good. So, how do you know my name?"

The pink shadow made a two-dimensional shrug. "I just do."

"Ah." Marceline bit her lip. This was it. She had to word this carefully. "So, Jake told me you could –"

"Jake? Oh, that guy is awesome! Man, I haven't heard from him in ages. How's he doing? I was totally going to send him another jar of my pickles but, you know how it is. One minute you're thinking of doing something and then seven years pass and you forget."

"Um…that's great. Really. But, getting back to what I was saying—"

"Hey, you wanna play some music with me or something?" Prismo deviated suddenly, his mind in upwards of ten dimensions at once. "Yeah, I totally used to have this band back in like, college, and we rocked out pretty hard. Won't lie. _Lots_ of beat-boxing. Man, did we love beat boxing. And oddly enough, easy listening. Gotta have a range, you know? But…I don't hang out with those guys anymore. Long story. Just couldn't seem to find the time."

The woman rubbed her arm wanting to be anywhere but here. This guy was just ridiculous. She watched as there were suddenly instruments in the room near one of the adjacent walls. As soon as they were put into existence, they had always been there. She made a puzzled frown at that logic.

"Hey, were those always –?"

The shape was already approaching the collection, his size shrinking down into the plane of the floor and wall to appear next to a drum set in relative proportion.

"Whaddya say? Bet we could totally sound _apocalyptic_."

"Um, I actually came here to…make a wish?"

The snare drum he'd been simulating stopped abruptly.

"Oh, darn. See, I gave up that wish stuff a long time ago. Ten years maybe. Or a few minutes ago, not really sure. Time can be complex. Either way, can't help you. Sorry."

"What! But, but – I have to make this wish. It's the only way to save Simon."

The silhouette didn't seem to react. After a few seconds of standing still, the snare was alive again.

The vampire queen looked crestfallen. Her adventure had come to an end and she had traded her soul for nothing. The worst part of it all was she would have to break her promise to Simon. And return to her world, with the Ice King in his place.

Just as she began to lose hope, an acoustic guitar appeared next to her and if she hadn't known better, she would have sworn it had been there the entire time. Looking skeptical, she picked it up and felt the weight in her hand. It felt real. So weird.

She tested it. Sounded amazing.

And without realizing it, her hands had begun a soft melodic tale of tragic longing, written unknown to her over the course of these thousand lonely years, in the corner of her mind. Hidden for so long in the soul she may or may not have, but no longer owned anyway.

"Ohh, totally feeling that sensual beat. Groovy. Liking it, _liking it…_" The drum set was suddenly an electric guitar with tremolo pedals. Or had it been all along? It was best not to wonder too hard on that.

With tears in her eyes, Marceline sank into the music, her world gone blurry and the song in her heart pouring out gently with all the sincere love it held.

"_If a phoootograaaph is alllll I haaaave_

"_To meeeemooooriiiize your faaaaace…_

"_I gueeess I coooould be glaaaad, that yoooou still haaaave a plaaaace…._

"_If a thoooousand yeeeears won't breaaaak my heaaaart_

"_I'll staaaay theeeeere by yooooour siiiide…_

"_But iiiiif I haaaad one wiiiiish, I'd wiiish to freeee your miiiind…"_

Prismo listened to her as their song lifted into a bittersweet bridge. Too moved to say anything and too spellbound to stop, he just let the music flow naturally. The simple distortion keeping time in the melody was a nice accompaniment to her sweet alto.

"_And wheeeen I thiiiiink of how gooooood life could beeeee_

"_I wiiiiish you cooooould be theeeere with meeee…"_

The silhouette knew at once what true heartbreak was, so beautiful, so complex. If shadows could cry, he would have shed a tear for this perfect moment.

"_If I piiiiictuuuure yoooou the waaaay you weeeere_

"_With roooses by yooooour siiiiide…_

"_Then maaaaaybe yooooou'd live oooon, if oooonly in my miiiind…_

"_If the meeeemorieeees should eeever faaaade, left wiiithered oooor behiiiind_

"_I'll hoooold your phoooooto, deeeear…_

"_And knoooow that yoooou were miiiine…_

"_Then maaaaybe weee could liiive like photos dooooo_

"_Fooooreeeever loooove…_

"_If wiiiiishes could coooooome truuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuue….."_

When at last all her tears had been spent and Marceline's fingers finally stopped playing, she was surprised to find the pink silhouette looking miserable. The guitar she'd been holding was gone and for the life of her, she didn't know if it had ever truly been there to begin with.

"That," Prismo said in earnest, "was the most beautiful song I've ever heard. I know I said I stopped with that whole 'wish business' thing, but, for you I think I will make an exception."

"Really?"

"Yep."

And with that simple answer, Marceline found herself spinning once again into a cloudy oblivion. Where time and space merged and separated and thoughts became reality, the woman passed into the veil of dreams and her wish was granted.


	5. Call of the Siren

**Roses for Abadeer**

Call of the Siren

Somewhere in the corner of consciousness, through a haze which had settled like fog on her mind, she could hear a bell ringing madly. It was one of those sounds that by nature Marceline knew marked the end of something, and although she could not see its source, knew it was close by. Suddenly there were voices. And smells. Something smelled terribly near her. She could hear movement, like several feet walking by at once at a quick, hurried pace.

Slowly, and with the sudden accompaniment of pain, she opened her eyes to the world.

It took a moment before her vision stopped spinning and the blurriness cleared. With a shaking hand, Marceline cradled her forehead as a headache blossomed behind her eyes. Thank Glob she had found herself in shade from the bright sunny day.

"Ugh, what the _math?_"

The ground beneath the hand supporting her weight was rough and unfriendly. So very different than what she was used to. Marceline looked down and examined it, curiosity getting the best of her. She blinked her eyes with disbelief. It was cement. She lifted her hand up and brushed the fragments of grit and sand away.

Ahead of her was a fence made of chain-link, something she hadn't come across in almost one thousa…

The string of buildings at the apex of this fenced park was a school of sorts, a large vaulted affair with long galleries of arches which in turn opened to stone courtyards beyond. Sand colored with attractive terra cotta roofs, the collection stretched in a slight curve around the lawn and looked wonderful coupled next to all the greenery of campus.

"I can't believe…" Marceline stared in shock at the trash bins nearby. There was a blue recycling bin and everything. A sign proclaimed that trash collected was not to include furniture. All of this was just bizarre.

"He did it," she breathed, "Prismo actually _did_ it." The woman frowned.

Shouting bloomed somewhere close by and with the stealth of a cat she crept behind a bush and watched as two young women in skirts ran by holding books. Her eyes alighted suddenly on a group of men crossing quickly beneath a veil of palm. Further down the path an older couple of gentlemen clad in lab coats rushed onward.

As they passed she caught their breathless argument about the theory of quantum entanglement. She listened with her ultra-human hearing for a few seconds and then decided her head hurt way too much for that.

With rising concern, Marceline noticed each and every person moved with intent. Rushing. Faces grim and eyes downcast.

A plane screamed overhead, leaving a trail of billowing white in its wake. All those in the park below stopped suddenly and watched its progression. As soon as the plane had disappeared behind the line of buildings, everyone seemed to scatter at a rekindled pace. What were they running from?

Marceline scanned them with interest. They were all human. She'd never seen so many all at once before. If she concentrated hard enough, she could hear their hearts beating rapidly. Their blood was alive with panic.

Where was she? _When_ was she? Obviously she was back in the past, but the buildings here were still intact. Had that crazy Time Keeper dumped her somewhere before her time? Why would Prismo send her this far back?

Then she saw him.

Exiting the main building with a stack of books shoved under an arm, was Simon. The woman felt her breath hitch, as if someone had knocked the wind from her lungs. He looked young. As young as he had in that photograph.

Her eyes followed him as he hurried down the steps, pausing just long enough to readjust a slipping book in his collection. He crossed the expanse of concrete towards the lawn uneasily.

Marceline felt the hair stand on her neck. Simon was leaving. She had to do something. Looking up despairingly, she winced at the sunlight outside of her bubble of shade. There was no reaching him in this environment. Without hat or cover, she'd be burnt to a crisp if she tried. He approached one of the long slices of cement that cut through the park and followed the path further away.

"No," whispered Marceline, "come back."

She lost him momentarily in a crowd and then caught him again just long enough to see him disappear permanently down a flight of stairs toward a latticework of arches and statuettes. So close. She was so very close to getting Simon.

In frustration she kicked the trash bin nearest her. A swarm of flies swelled angrily.

Defeated, she crouched down near the recyclables and felt tears forming in her eyes. The woman would just have to wait until nightfall and go in the direction he had gone.

Almost an hour later, with the sun still blazing above, sounds of life in the park had all died away. Like a horrible curse upon the land, a long drawn out siren sounded, echoing around the abandoned campus. The blaring noise continued for some time until dying, leaving a solemnity behind. The school looked haunted now. What had the siren been for?

Another plane streamed overhead, making clouds. A horrible feeling crept up her spine.

Marceline laid her head back onto the blue plastic bin and looked up. Something in her knew Prismo was watching, laughing at her misery. She cursed his name and her own weakness and hugged her knees tightly. It was just so unfair.

Sighing, she dropped her gaze and happened to see something which had her up and floating quickly. A scrap of cloth hanging from an open bin further down the line of trash cans. If only she had seen this before!

Marceline tore it out from the bin and examined it. Stinking and soiled by something, the cloth had probably begun its life white but was now the color of dirt. The sheet was just about large enough to provide a decent cover, as long as the wind didn't pick up and blow it about. Disregarding the smell, she hastily cloaked herself.

Pausing momentarily at the fence line, she scanned the courtyard. No one in sight. Not wanting to waste any more time, she floated quickly after Simon.

Down the stairs and through the bridge of arches Simon had traveled, the woman was dismayed to find a stone courtyard devoid of him. Marceline sniffed the air and then remembered she didn't know how Simon smelled as a human. The crown's magic, in the time she had known him, had changed most of his chemical imprint by then. She had no leads whatsoever.

There were several buildings lining the open atrium. Large, homey looking buildings. Apartments, she remembered was the word. Her good eyesight spotted a plant sitting in the window of one such building. Another window had a set of chimes.

She narrowed her eyes to focus on the furthest building across the courtyard. In the window looked like a little stuffed pengu—

"Well, well," a voice said behind her. The intrusion was not expected. "What do we have here?"

"Looks like a little bunny lost her way. Out a little late, aren't ya, bunny?" Said another.

"Past curfew. That will cost you," said a third, with the slow evaluating tones of the truly vile. "What's your name, baby?"

Marceline turned slightly and thanked Glob she had touched down on the ground minutes prior.

The gang of men, all clad in uniform and headgear in various shades of green and grey, had circled around her in menace. She could smell alcohol on their breath and arousal on their persons. There were seven of them. A few carried weapons but human weaponry, as far as she could remember, was nothing to write home to dad about. Although the last time she'd encountered a gun she had been too small to fight back, Marceline imagined them quite inferior to her now. This wouldn't be difficult.

A treacherous thought stopped her. She couldn't reveal herself in this world of humans. She'd never get to Simon that way. They'd bag her and tag her, or knowing her luck, Simon would see her full power somehow and be terrified. He was still human, after all.

The men circled closer towards her. One of their radios transmitted orders to another troop nearby, and was turned almost all the way down by the man holstering it. He grinned darkly.

"Let's not interrupt our fun, hmm?"

A more daring specimen approached her, breaking from the pack. His mustached face split into a suggestive grin. "Take off that sheet, baby. Let's see what you're hiding."

"Yeah. Bet you're real fine." Joined in another.

"I don't want trouble ," said Marceline and hated herself for it. She frowned and tried to push through the crush, being blocked rudely. "Let me go."

"Not so fast, babe. Let's hang out for a while," the ugliest of the collection breathed down to her, gin and other festering smells assaulting her senses. "You broke curfew, girl. You know the law."

Marceline found herself being backed up against a corner of the atrium, the men's predatory instincts taking charge once blood was ripe on the wind. She looked up at the windows for help. Most of them had their blinds drawn now, as if resolved to be neutral. The plant looked forlorn against white drapery. A tinkle of chimes sounded strange in the tense air.

Marceline hated this. She could easily beat these idiots down. If not for the crippling fear of ruining the past and her chances with Simon, she'd just crush them all.

"Stop it," she hissed and caught herself before transforming, squashing her temper. Panting from the effort the woman was finding it hard to focus. One of them had reached for her sheet. "I said stop. What's the matter with you? Leave me alone!"

"Relax, babe. Just let it happen."

Gritting her teeth, Marceline broke. "Ugh, I said stop!"

She caught the nearest soldier between the legs and as he fell, dashed around him. The next man had his arm broken as he reached to stop her escape. The woman took another down with a fierce blow to his neck. Just as freedom loomed before her, someone grabbed ahold of her cloak and she fell, writhing in the sunlight.

"Ahhhhggghhhhhhh!"

The man backed away, sickened. "_Jesus_, the hell is she?"

"_Sargent,_" a gruff voice of command warned, cocking his gun and pointing it towards Marceline, "it might be some sort of chemical warfare. Get back! _That's an order!_"

The woman screamed blindly, her skin sizzling and crisping into the stone beneath. Marceline could hear sounds only, great blocks of sound merging with her own roars of pain. Animalistic instinct twisted her body towards a fetal position as she shook in pain. Extreme heat ravaged her and then, suddenly, she was terribly cold.

Moments before blacking out completely, she felt the heavy burden of a sheet being thrown on top of her to extinguish the fires of her curse. And hands, impossibly warm in this winter of confusion, lifting her up and away.


	6. The Fires of Friendship

**Roses for Abadeer**

The Fires of Friendship

Once, a few hundred years back, when the woman was still young and foolish, she believed herself to be in love. In this world that promised nothing but tears, Ash had found her. He alone filled her life with wonder. Never before had she thought dreams were something that could come true.

Until then her life had just been passing by, fleeting emotions, one long faceless blur, unstable shifting tides that carried her nowhere but further into depression. Simon had been lost to her. The world was dark and unfamiliar.

She'd spent so long being alone that to suddenly find herself in the company of someone else had shocked her system. And it was…wonderful.

She placed Ash onto a pedestal. Her false idol. Her nativity had been her own doing, and looking back at stupid mistakes, if she was true to herself Marceline knew she had turned a blind eye to so many signs. Their relationship had moved way too fast in its time, despite the warning in her heart. Marceline wanted more than anything to make him happy.

And in the end that psycho jerk had stolen her innocence.

Even as their relationship spent its course and began to spin downward, Marceline would look up to the stars and beg them to see her through. To keep him by her side. She just couldn't bear to be alone anymore.

Her thoughts twisted suddenly. She found herself in darkness, standing on the edge of time.

Stars above, stars below, only her and Hambo against the world. She smiled down at him. His eyes, two mismatched buttons of slightly different size, were suddenly traced in subtle light and the woman looked up to find its source.

In front of her Ash billowed into existence from the smoke of memory. She hugged her little friend to herself and took a step back from his taunting face. Her foot ran out of ground and she fell backward. Falling into black.

Marceline awoke with a start. Hambo was nowhere to be found. Neither was Ash.

With curiosity, the woman sat up and let the blanket covering her fall into a heap on her lap. She picked up a corner to examine it.

Her surroundings were unfamiliar but not unwelcome, with exposed brick walls and modest windows entertaining most of the affair. Gauzy curtains had been let down to allow the last tendrils of afternoon light to filter indirectly into the room, dusting patterns on the wood floor. A clock kept time nearby, its soft clicking enchanting in the easy silence. It was a little after four.

Foundation stones of differing colors and sizes created a checkerboard of beige and flax around her, trimmed neatly by chestnut accents. Little antiques peppered the room on various shelves and nooks, each holding a secret promise of adventure. Across the small room an elegant satinwood case held ancient tomes and foreign texts, their spines shining the way quality leather should. She breathed in their perfume. This was the room of a poet. The heart of philosophy and long thoughtful discussions on Voltaire.

The effect was that of an old world fairytale.

The room had been sparsely decorated with furniture. A table near the window, a well-loved armchair, and the comfy couch which Marceline occupied almost too much for its intimate space. Each artifact bespoke the care of its owner.

Marceline scanned the room, trying to remember how it was she ended up here. The last thing she could picture was a blue recycling can and a sign overhead. The woman squinted and rubbed her sore head.

She was somewhere in the past, that much she knew.

The faint sizzle of cooking sounded somewhere further away and soon the woman smelled something wonderful inviting her to come closer. She hadn't realized until this moment how utterly starved she was. Maybe they had red pottery she could have.

Getting off the couch quietly, Marceline floated out of the room and down a hall.

The place she had found herself in was not large by any means, but clean and well cared for. By peeking into a few rooms down the way, the woman discovered a bedroom, a room full of more artifacts, and a bathroom with simple fixtures and curtained tub. The hallway had its share of maps but none looked familiar. Marceline paused near one which featured a placed called "Australia" and felt a pang of something she couldn't quite describe. She suddenly missed Finn and Jake.

"…_in the woooorld todaaay takes eeeeverythiiiing you've goooot_…"

A warm tenor voice distracted her, causing her breath to hitch. If her heart still beat it would have skipped in this moment. She knew that song.

"…_mmmm mmm mmmm mmm mmmmmm mmm mmmm, suuure would heeelp a looot_… Oh, shoot. Well, that piece is burnt."

The woman wasn't one to be afraid. She had seen her share of horrible things, some of which she was responsible for, and held her own in most fights. She was half-demon, a vampire queen. She had spent a large portion of her life in the Nightosphere with unspeakable creatures slithering around at all times. Her own father was the Lord of Demons.

But Marceline had not prepared for this. Her world suddenly blurred away, a door up ahead the only tunnel in her vision. She swallowed hard. Fear crept up her spine.

Light trickled from underneath and it was here that the alluring aroma was at its strongest. The woman slowed to a stop and touched down carefully. Behind the half-propped door, the sounds of someone cooking could be heard. Little bursts of humming mingled with sections of lyric filled her ears. The kitchen's apparent smallness meant he was close by. Right behind the door, perhaps.

A little gasp later there was a soft _plop_ on the floor beyond.

"Oww, that sucker's _hot_. Oh, there you go…dropping things."

Marceline let out a small whimper as she slowly pushed open the door. The man's back was turned to her as he scooped up a sad slice of toast and deposited it in the trash. Even without seeing his face he was unmistakable.

"Last piece, shoot. Guess it'll have to be a bagel."

He fished around a few questionable dishes in his refrigerator and suddenly felt eyes upon him. The man turned.

Marceline stood in the doorway. Somewhere in another dimension, Time stood still. Literally. Prismo hunched over with rapt attention and ate another tortilla chip. The little island in his pool floated away too quickly for him to reach the salsa. Perplexed, he scratched at his chin for a moment and then hit the play button.

"Oh," Simon said and quickly shut the door of his refrigerator. He stood there looking awkward, with a bagel in hand. Self-consciously he hid the hand behind him with as much suavity as he could muster.

"Hello."

"Hello," agreed Marceline softly, in a daze.

She knew she had missed Simon, but not until this moment had she realized how very much his loss truly affected her. As if seeing his face had released the floodgates of emotion she stood there in breathless silence. Too afraid to move lest this be a dream.

The man seemed to catch on to her sudden unease.

"Oh, um, I'm Simon. Simon Petrikov."

"Marceline."

Simon shyly looked away. He couldn't rest his gaze directly onto her for any length of time without feeling lost. Something about her was just penetrating, deep, almost like the sensation one gets from staring into a flame.

Awkwardly, he smiled at mention of her name and nodded. A name as beautiful as the woman it adorned. Marceline. _Marceline._ Yes, it suited her.

"This is my home. Although, I uh, I suppose you're probably wondering why you're here."

She shook her head automatically and caught herself. Marceline instead nodded, trying to look as if this man hadn't been the cause of almost a thousand years of heartache.

"Maybe a little."

The two stood together in this way for a moment longer than necessary. Marceline searched his face.

He nervously made an attempt to usher her towards the table and chairs. "Would you like to sit? Oh, goodness, where are my manners? How are you feeling? Are you alright? Do you have any burns? I think I have a first-aid kit somewhere…"

Marceline frowned. "I'm fine."

Simon scanned her once over in a purely professional manner. He blinked.

"You're not burned, oh, thank God. I was…I was so afraid! When those soldiers hit you with that chemical or, well, whatever it was. I was afraid you'd be hurt. I saw you," He pointed towards the dining room window, "down in the courtyard. You were in such terrible pain that I…"

The man drifted into awkward silence, the words too terrible to give life to. He guiltily itched for his crown and thanked the Heavens it was locked safely away inside a metal cabinet beneath two strong chains. The idea was too tempting.

Suddenly lost, he anchored his gaze on Marceline and decided to hedge around the issue. The girl seemed to be waiting for an explanation of sorts. Simon couldn't blame her.

When he brought her up to his apartment it had seemed a good idea at the time. With curfew and all… But now it only seemed like a felony.

Furrowing his brow, Simon went to speak but was cut off by a high-pitched screaming.

"What _is_ that?!" Marceline, with her ultra-human hearing, covered her ears protectively. The blaring was terrible, endless.

"Smoke alarm!"

Simon rounded on the stove and the pan he had neglected. What may have been bacon was now smoking profusely, blackened and crisped beyond salvation. The man quickly turned off the burner and grabbed a hand towel. Coughing, he waved at the smoke for a spell and finally cracked the window. The attempt he made at moving the hot pan to another burner sent him hissing in pain.

He shook his burnt hand with a grimace.

"I'm so sorry," he began, pulling a chair towards the offending noise source, "This is why I don't cook."

"It's okay, just please turn that thing off."

After fiddling with the housing, Simon gave up and unceremoniously ripped out the battery. He stepped down off the chair and considered the pan and his ruined breakfast.

"There might still be a piece or two left, if you're hungry. Oh, and an egg," the man indicated a sloppy mess on the table behind her, "It's scrambled or well, would have been sunny-side up but I didn't quite make the flip."

He was so cute that Marceline couldn't help but laugh. She shook with laughter. Soon it consumed her.

Simon, not having a better alternative, laughed along with her. Hers was an infectious sort of laugh. He was grateful for the distraction.

"You have," the woman informed between giggles, "dirt on your nose. From the smoke, I think."

The man wiped it off and laughed harder. "I suppose it is only _soot_able."

Marceline rolled her eyes and fell into the nearest chair, still laughing. Same old Simon. Always making up the silliest puns. She smiled at him with affection. Her enjoyment ebbed slowly into a general appreciation, and she sighed warmly at the thought. She'd missed this. The man turned, smiling, and used the towel to move the pan to a cooler spot on his stove. He fanned away the remnants of smoke and turned on his sink to begin washing utensils.

"So, why breakfast?" Marceline couldn't help but ask, watching him. She looked at the sad mashed egg and took up a fork, just for his sake. Although food was never on her menu she'd eat for Simon. "It's past four thirty by now."

"Ah," he acknowledged in good spirits without turning, "I'm afraid my dear that breakfast is all I know how to make. Although, looking at this pan, I suppose I shouldn't even say that anymore."

He chucked a little while he scrubbed. "Ruined two eggs, dropped a piece of toast, annihilated half a package of bacon, and you don't even want to see what happened to the pancakes. Oh, and I lost a bagel, outright."

"You mean that round thing on the floor near the stove?"

The man followed her gaze and paused.

"Yep, that would be it." Simon lamented at his last bagel, shaking his head. "This is why Betty does all the cooking."

Out of reflex he'd said her name. Now he regretted it.

Marceline perked up at the mention of Betty. Finally some familiar ground.

"Betty?" she feigned ignorance to start a conversation.

The man nodded, trying to form the words he needed to say. "My…fiancé."

"Oh."

She heard the water suddenly turn off. Simon deposited the towel back on the stove door handle and turned. With a brightness that seemed almost too overdone to be genuine, he gestured to the meal Marceline was struggling through.

"Any good?"

"Yes, delicious," she lied, forcing down her forkful. He'd over-salted the yoke and there was a suspicious crunch in one of her bites. She smiled to ease his worry. "Thank you, Simon. It was nice of you to make this for me."

"I knew you'd be hungry after such an ordeal. My mother always said that food solved any problem. Large woman, my mother."

Marceline snorted down another bite and giggled. Simon chose this moment to mourn over his lost bagel, sending it to its final rest in the trash bin.

"Aren't you eating?"

"No, don't worry about me. I'm afraid there wasn't really enough for both of us anyway, ha-ha."

Another siren sounded outside. Long and solemn along the empty campus.

The man peeked out his kitchen window at the courtyard below. The structure had been ruined and cracked tiles littered the area. A statue near where Marceline had been attacked had been decapitated. Simon shivered to think what the crown was truly capable of, if ever allowed to turn its power loose on the world.

"…on? Simon, did you hear me?"

"What?" said the man, his thoughts elsewhere. He looked suddenly much older. Simon took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose out of habit. "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

"I asked about your antiques. Do you collect them?"

"Oh, well, sort of. I'm a professor of antiquaries you see. I travel all over the world in search for artifacts. Relics of forgotten worlds. Forgotten places.

"It's quite fascinating to see an entire civilization through the objects they leave behind. Small things, probably nothing of much value during their actual lifetime, can be a priceless find, a rare discovery. Pottery, for instance, becomes a blueprint of existence.

"A bowl used every day and formed by a clumsy hand. A single slab of clay that on its own is worth nothing, but carved into a vessel for water or other substances becomes precious. Such an intimate testimony of its user, this bowl. Plain to look at but with a trained eye, you can see more than what the surface holds.

"Fingerprints to a society, a people, dead but never gone. Ghosts of this ever-changing world, left behind for us to find. Like filling in the pieces of a puzzle with no edges. All of it, there is no end to the wisdom one can unearth. The riches one can find on archeology digs, oh Marceline – you would just be amazed!"

Suddenly the man was so confident, a different person. The notion of antiques lighting a fire in his soul. He spoke with such passion that Marceline could not help but love him.

He came down off his high and smiled at her, conscious of his babbling. He said as much, apologizing for boring her.

"You're not boring me. I think it's fascinating, too." And she meant it. She really did.

The fire in his eyes reignited, and together, they spent the evening discussing underwater adventures in Atlantis, escapades in ancient Egypt, and tours through Babylon.


	7. When Adventurers Stray

**Roses for Abadeer**

When Adventurers Stray

Finn came down hard upon the earth, flourishing his weapon with skill. His battle cry erupted over the land. The two-headed mushroom monster he'd been fighting split in twain behind his hero's descent, heads dropping with a sick _shlop _effect in opposite directions of one another.

"Take that BEAST!" He shouted in victory and brandished his sword once more for good measure. He was pretty sure the thing was dead, but you know, in Ooo one frequently needs another helping of EPIC to satisfy the soul.

Metal gleamed spectacularly in the afternoon light. The sun danced along its sharpened blade. Grinning furiously, the man sheathed his prized possession and took out a special jar that Princess Bubblegum had only just given him that morning.

"Oh, wicked _awesome_. There's enough goop here for, like, _seven_ of these jars!"

Finn collected the life-puss from the Duplefungi carcass and sealed his jar carefully. Weird creatures, Duplefungi. Spores the size of walnuts… "Aw, _sick_, it's so sticky!"

"Finn, come on man. We have a lot more of this stuff to collect for PB. 'Short list' my fanny," Jake swung down from his vantage point and joined his friend. The bitterness in his voice was palpable. "More like a whole _catalogue_ of crap.

"I mean, seriously, what the heck _is_ some of this stuff anyway? 'Horde Tongue?', 'Yellow-Belled Shrinking Clam Eye?'…oh, oh, and who has even _heard _of a 'Rat's Lucky Patty'? I _know_ that one's made up.

"Ugh! This is so pointless! You think collecting all this stuff is going to somehow help?"

The dog shook his head with disapproval. Bubblegum sure was off her nut lately. He rolled up the three foot long scroll she had dictated and stuck it in a pocket fabricated from stretchy skin, with the secret hope of being forgotten entirely.

"Jake," Finn reasoned solemnly, "If PB says this will bring Marceline back then this will bring Marceline back. Have a little faith, brother. Now, what's next?"

The two of them had spent the last five hours going up and down the Land of Ooo with all odds and ends to show for it. Finn took down his pack and reverently put the jar next to a stack of Tartarbug Crisps and a wedge of Salamantian Molting. The man sighed, job well done.

"I dunno. I _guess_ we could go after the Hoosa-whatta Butter and Stone Crop Skins next."

Finn frowned as his friend sighed heavily. "What's eating you, buddy? Come on, tell Finn all about it."

"Nothing. It's nothing."

Dejected, Jake kicked a dirt clod over. Mr. and Mrs. Clod objected profusely.

"Oh, sorry."

"Jake, I've noticed you aren't yourself lately. What's up, bro? Share with me."

The dog sighed and sat down on an overturned stump. He shrugged. "I dunno. It just seems like we are on a wild goose chase here. Maybe Peebs just wants us out of the way or something. Distract us so we don't notice there's no bringing Marceline back."

Finn reeled back with a shriek. "Why would you even say that, Jake!? We have to keep hoping!"

"What's the use? She's gone. And she's gone because of me."

The human considered his yellow little friend, even as he lay back on the log. "Listen, Jake. I know you're upset about giving Marce the info, but she left on her own. It wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, but –"

"Uh, uh," Finn cut off and continued sagaciously, "it wasn't your fault. Chick's always just actin' without thinkin'. Real impulsive like that."

"I told her about Prismo, though."

"She would have found out from someone else then."

"How?" The doubt in his voice was thick and impenetrable. Jake wanted to be blamed. "No one else knew."

"I did."

The dog looked up at Finn with a funny expression. His friend was cheerful and nodding for no reason.

"That's _right_. _I _knew about Prismo. And about the Enchiridion. If you hadn't had told Marceline, I probably would have…you know how she just _stares into my soul_. If you aren't careful, you just start talking all sorts of crazy deep feelings and jazz to her. Tricky. She's a tricky one."

Jake laughed, his guilt giving way to sarcasm. "Finn, _BMO_ can trick you into spilling your guts."

"Yeah, I know. So where to next?"

About a thousand years away, and possibly in a different dimension entirely, a newfound comfort had taken root between two rekindled friends, although their friendship was kept hidden for now by one Marceline. She smiled and leaned back into her chair, happy to listen to anything Simon wanted to say as long as she could stay here like this. At the moment the man was going through unearthed treasures which proved the existence of mermaids.

"…this one in particular I found along the shore of an ancient lake in Africa, only limestone and fossils at the time, perfectly preserved in the surrounding seabed. Although it is an incomplete skeleton, you can still get such a story from it.

"See how the bones splay out from this central grouping, like hands almost? And here, where you can see such intricacy between them, where they possibly had webbing of some sort. I am convinced this is proof of them, Marceline. And this dates, oh goodness, this dates well into late Pleistocene era, at least. Which, if my calculations are correct, would be right around the time early Humans emerged.

"Which could possibly mean these two species, Humans and Mermaids, came from the same ancestral background. Perhaps even the same family. That some small difference in climate or environment, some factor in their evolutionary development triggered mermaids to separate from the normal path of evolution and grow as they did instead."

The man, lost in his words, looked to her suddenly, aware that he'd done it again. "Oh, I'm sorry, Marceline – I'm probably boring you with all this talk of mermaids."

"No, why would you think that?"

Simon smiled and studied her.

"It's just that most people immediately think you're crazy if you believe in the existence of mermaids. It's enough to get you laughed out of board meetings with the Smithsonian, I know that much."

"Why would anyone laugh at you? I think it's fascinating. I believe in mermaids, too."

"Really?" the man peered hopefully at her from across the top of his blue spectacles, wanting to believe. "You do?"

"Yep." Marceline said without pause. "In fact I've see—uh," she quickly stopped and laughed nervously.

She couldn't tell Simon about them without sounding crazy. The Land of Ooo was commonplace for all sorts of odds and ends, including mermaids. But here…she'd be locked up if she mentioned it.

"I've se_riously_ considered…going…on an expedition for them. Yeah! Off to the seas of…of…Australia." Thank you, hallway map. She smiled prettily and shrugged, trying to pass it off.

Simon half-smiled, rubbing his chin with a hand. "Australia, yes…yes of course! Why, didn't I think of that? Australia would be the perfect migratory path from Africa...in fact, there has recently been claim to finding mermaid bones in Indonesia, right along the route to Australia.

"Oh, Marceline, you have inspired me! No, you have done more than that…"

He looked at her and felt something he couldn't explain. There was something about her that just…

The two of them shared a brief moment of warm silence, during which he had somehow come to hold her hands. Marceline looked down at them, their fingers entwined, curious about this feeling swelling painfully in her chest. Simon shyly withdrew from her, looking her in the eyes.

"Marceline, I —"

An alarm went off down the hall and interrupted them. Simon's eyes went wide as he rounded toward the kitchen door. "Oh crabs, don't tell me I missed it!"

"What? Simon? What's wrong?"

Marceline got up from her chair and followed him, careful not to float. It was hard not to when her heart felt so light.

"Oh, mother, oh mother mother…ah! Thank goodness! I didn't miss it." The man plopped down on his bed and turned on the small TV sitting on the stand opposite, a familiar melody filling the room. His smile was bright as he turned and regarded his female visitor, still standing in the doorway confused. With a hand he disengaged his alarm clock.

"Oh, Marceline – have you ever watched Cheers? It's my favorite. The TV Guide said there would be a marathon on tonight of the best episodes.

"I'm sorry, where are my manners?"

He got up and went to usher her in, and then stopped. Realization hit him. He was suddenly awkwardly aware of finding themselves in his bedroom. Blushing profusely, he turned, trying to figure out a better room to put his TV in. Maybe the living room? No, none of the glass shelves could bear the weight of his old TV. The kitchen?

Marceline, hardly uncomfortable, went around him and perched herself on the edge of his bed. The little moving people intrigued her. She had never watched a TV before. Unless she counted Simon's humorous display behind a box he'd done once for her entertainment.

"So this is Cheers?" She said, much to Simon's embarrassment.

He watched the girl get comfortable on his bed and almost fainted from anxiety. She. Was. On. His. Bed. Shocked silent, Simon would have done so if not for her saying, "I've never seen it before."

Suddenly the fear was gone and Simon relaxed into his role of professor, seating himself neatly by her side.

"Really? Oh, my goodness – Marceline, this is one of the greats! You've really never seen..? Okay, here, I'll fill you in on some of the important details.

"That is Sam Malone. He was a baseball star until he drank his career away. Ironically he owns this bar, but the bar is more of a catalyst for the comedic banter than anything. Oh, oh, and there is Coach – you'll like Coach," Simon's excitement turned him to look at Marcy, and he caught himself staring, "Coach is…beautiful."

"What?"

Simon straightened and cleared his throat nervously, "I mean, Coach is a…beautifully crafted…character. He's easy going and possibly senile, but he cares about people and helps solve their problems. He's sort of like everyone's nice old dad."

The man remained sitting uncomfortably for a few moments in awkward silence. Marceline didn't notice.

"Who's that? She seems really stuck-up."

"Oh, that's Diane. She's not stuck-up, per se, but she has a difficult time adjusting herself to the life of the bar. Her character portrays a degree of academic understanding and intelligence that goes unparalleled with the local bar-goers, but when it comes right down to it, she really has no knowledge of the real world. I think they end up teaching her more about life than she ever found in a book, which is why she's drawn to Cheers.

"She is also the on again, off again love interest of Sam, which makes for some interesting situations."

"And he likes her? I mean, she's so cold to him."

Simon gulped and stared at Marceline's hand, which was mere inches away from his own on the bed. The girl was oblivious to his inner turmoil.

"They…have their moments."

"Ooo, who's that?"

Simon had to force himself to look at the TV. "Norm. Oh, Norm! He's one of my favorites."

He watched Marceline smile and felt his heart speed up. The man was suddenly dizzy.

"And who's that?"

"Who? Oh, that's Cliff. He's a mailman that seems to know a little about everything."

"Ah. So the little one must be Carla then."

"Carla? So you have seen Cheers!"

Marceline leaned back and looked up to the ceiling, wondering how much she should tell him. "Nope. But one of my dearest friends in the world loves Cheers. He'd talk about it all the time."

"Sounds like he has good taste."

There was a heavy sadness on her heart that she couldn't just be open with Simon. She regarded him and with earnestness said, "He does."

Simon and Marcy sat together in a moment of silence.

On the TV, the uppity Diane was addressing the group of them, Sam in tow.

"…_we have one thing very much in common with one another..."_

"_I got it! They were both born brunette!"_ Carla interjected.

Above the laughter, Diane fought to speak again.

"…_no! We have a willingness to be vulnerable with one another."_

Their eyes met after what seemed a lifetime, a silent understanding passing between them. Marceline leaned closer. Simon forgot how to breathe. The two searched one another's eyes in this intimate moment –

"_I think I see a trip to the 'Ye Olde Leash and Leather Shoppe' coming up."_ On the TV, Norm ruined it for both couples.

Face flushed and feeling hot, Simon quickly got up from the bed and found himself in the doorway.

"Are you thirsty? Would you like…uh...some water?"

Marceline, eyes wide, nodded without thinking. After he'd left, she was faced with a sudden realization.

She didn't just love Simon. She was _in_ love with him.


End file.
